Oh, God. His arms cradled her tenderly, and his body was flush against hers. She did not want this. She didn’t even like him. But… why was her entire body trembling? And why was her heart about to pound right out of her chest? She was startled to realize that she had been right the other day, when she had mused that underneath his linen, he would be even more perfectly sculpted than Thomas Hope’s statue. Because she had his shoulders under her hands and his broad, gorgeous chest pressed against hers, and she now knew without a single shred of doubt that every inch of him was as hard as carved marble.
She felt strangely languid, as if she couldn’t have moved away from him if her life had depended upon it. She felt the slow slide of his hands moving up her back, then one of them rose to car
